The Beginning of After

in my reflection. With mirrors I was always looking for something wrong, something that could be thinner or brighter or higher. But unbelievably, I liked everything I saw in this girl.
    This is me at the prom, and I look a little bit pretty.
    The girl in the glass nodded too, as if to say, Your secret’s safe .
    For a second, I imagined my parents standing behind me. Mom on my left, Dad on my right. Nodding and proud. Now stepping into the frame was Toby with his video camera, shooting me a thumbs-up.
    I whirled around fast to make them go away.
    When I came back from the bathroom, everyone at our table was on the dance floor. I stood by the doorway alone for a moment, watching. It felt odd to be the one staring at everybody, instead of the other way around. Within seconds, Mr. Churchwell was next to me with his hand on my elbow.
    “You okay?” he yelled.
    “I’m just looking for my date,” I yelled back, and jerked my elbow away from him.
    Suddenly, Joe had wriggled out of the dance cluster, taking my hand, his palm warm and too tight, leading me to where Meg and Gavin were.
    Then somehow I was moving, and Joe was looking at me like I was interesting, and the blue dress tickled as it swished around my ankles. Andie and Hannah smiled at me when I caught their eye. Some petals broke off from my corsage as I moved, and I watched them drop, then disappear under Meg’s feet.

Chapter Ten

    I n the limo on our way to Adam LaGrange’s after-prom party—new golf team captain, just got contact lenses, trying to build a rep—the configuration had changed. Gavin and Meg sat together on one seat, leaving Joe and me to share the other. My ears were still ringing and my feet were hurting, so I took off my shoes. Now they looked like part of my anatomy again, naked and familiar. I put them up on Meg’s knees, and she started to rub.
    “Do I get to be next?” said Gavin, nudging Meg with his elbow.
    Meg smiled but didn’t look up. “Sure.”
    She was going to do it, I could tell. She was going to fool around with Gavin, and I was pretty sure it was going to happen before we’d even left the party. I looked at Joe, who was trying to get something decent on the radio, the hair at his neckline fringed with dance-floor sweat. I felt an overpowering sense of dread.
    When we got to Adam LaGrange’s house, it was already packed. Meg and Gavin went into the yard to look for Adam, while Joe took my hand and led me downstairs to the den, where a folding card table had been converted into a fully stocked bar.
    “What’re you having?” he asked in mock James Bond.
    I thought of the time Meg and I took samples from her mother’s liquor cabinet, one capful at a time, taking notes on a Hello Kitty pad.
    “Vodka tonic?” It was my dad’s drink, every Friday night before dinner.
    Joe mixed one for me, then one for himself, totally guessing on how much Smirnoff to put in. It hissed at me as I put it to my lips, bubbles hopping. It tasted sweet and dangerous. I started to go back upstairs, but Joe grabbed my hand again, pulled me toward a couch. There were maybe five other people in the room, and I saw them track us with their peripheral vision.
    “So, did you have fun? It seemed like you did.” I was getting used to this directness from Joe.
    “Yes, of course. Couldn’t you tell?”
    “You’re a great dancer.”
    “You too.”
    A pause. Drink sips, in unison.
    “But you’re feeling good, so far? You’re feeling okay?” Joe said this with what looked like practiced concern on his face. I remembered the way Mr. Churchwell put his hand on Joe’s shoulder, the nodding of their heads.
    “You’ve been talking too much to school counselors,” I said, pulling together all my courage to put my hand, lightly, on his knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
    Joe drank again, then put his hand over mine. My heart skipped, nervous, panic , but then I glanced back up at the other people in the room, now two or three more. They were a horizon to focus on when I started to feel queasy.
    So you might get your first kiss. Chill!
    But I had waited so long for the right opportunity. When I’d come close in the past I always blew it. I got nervous and too jokey. The more I anticipated it, the more terrifying it became.
    Where was Meg? I needed to grab her and drag her into a bathroom or closet, clutch her arm and say, “Is this it?” Meg had already had her first, second, and third kiss, all with guys who worked at her